Night
by SALJStella
Summary: Adam lives his days in fear. Fear of Jigsaw, fear of the darkness, and still fear that the night won't come. Simply because at night, his phantom is there, and he gets to live again. AdamLawrence.


**A/N: What can I say? Just another one-shot songfic to add to my arsenal… And it's T-rated, it's fluffy, and it is… (Drum roll) ADAM AND LAWRENCE! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Saw is not mine. If it was, this would've happened in the movie, anyway. And 'Heaven Is a Place On Earth' is not mine, either, it just… Fits, you know?**

**Night**

He comes only at night, when the New York air has been soothed and lies like black velvet over Adam's windowpanes and his eyes have gotten used to the darkness.

He never has the lights on. He's afraid of the dark since the bathroom, but he never has the lights on.

In some way, it takes the edge off Lawrence's arrival if it's not silently and still, if he's not Adam's view of a phantom in the night, with two strong arms around his waist, with whispering like soft flames, hot on his ear.

_When the night falls down_

_I wait for you _

_And you come around _

And Lawrence is there.

Adam is dead at daytime. At daytime, he sits in his apartment and it's quiet then, too, yes, though not peacefully quiet, but menacingly quiet, not like now, when the silence is a blanket he can wrap around himself, a blanket that's stained with his own anxious growls and Lawrence's ragged breathing, it envelops them when Lawrence's lips find his, when the heat comes to life and a wave of fire rocks through his apartment.

At daytime, his apartment is an asylum, then, he sits in a straightjacket on his couch, doesn't dare to move, barely dares to breath, because if he does, Jigsaw might jump out of his closet, the air will get thin, dissolve in the smoke of the cigarettes he poisons himself with without really thinking about it. Then he's the apartment's prisoner.

Then, Adam's Jigsaw's bitch, even though he's dead.

But at night, he's Lawrence's.

At night, he's Lawrence's to kiss, he's Lawrence's nameless heat, just two fervent lips that press against his, again, again, again, never satisfied, never enough, never he'll get tired of running his hands over Lawrence's body, everywhere, under his shirt, under his jeans, under his boxers at that place where all of Lawrence's longing, all his anxiety, everything he's bottled up the whole day he spent at the hospital is gathered up in one burning point.

_When you walk into the room_

_You pull me close and we start to move_

_And we're spinning with the stars above_

_And you lift me up in a wave of love_

Then, Jigsaw can't reach Adam. Then, he can't reach either one of them.

Only at night, and only with Lawrence, when Adam is his own, and he's not his own even then, because then, he's only Lawrence's, but that doesn't matter.

Adam and Lawrence are the same person. They belong to each other.

They have too much of themselves in each other to be different people anymore.

Only with each other they're complete, only with each other the memories of the bathroom can drown in the river of emotions that flows through them, up through their feet to crash together where their lips meet.

Only at night, Adam gets to be whole, and it's not even the night that does it.

And Adam knows this because those few nights when Lawrence hasn't been able to come over, it's just like in the days, only worse, because it's dark.

Then, all his furniture are rusty bathtubs, every step on the sidewalk outside is from Jigsaw's quiet boots.

But when Lawrence is here, he gets to be the person he's always wanted to be, but that he's never dared to admit, since it was so damn obvious that it still was out of his reach. Only with Lawrence, he gets to be brave, because let's face it, the Adam he used to be wouldn't eve touch Lawrence. He wouldn't dare, and he wouldn't want to, either, because he'd still hate him.

He'd only see rich man's kid, cheater, I'm-richer-than-you.

He wouldn't see the confused doctor beneath it all. Just like Lawrence wouldn't see past Adam's sarcasms, his independence, he's fake satisfaction with the empty shell that was his life.

He wouldn't see the scared little boy Adam was. The person that Adam himself hated so much.

And the person that Lawrence actually is able to take away.

He comes only at night, Adam's stopped locking the door just to increase the effect of it, he puts his arms around Adam's waist, where he's standing in the middle of the living room, and a lot of the time, he's frozen in a movement since he's heard an innocent sound, maybe a flick from the yellowish walls, and that's made him paralyzed for the rest of the day, and Lawrence defrosts him with those arms, spins him around, seeks for his lips in the darkness before Adam feels his warmth flooding through him, finally, finally, after waiting a whole day. And Lawrence kisses him.

Or, kisses is a small word.

He _lives _through him.

Adam's been dead the whole day. He's been sitting on his couch and he swears that his heart has stopped beating more than once. But then, Lawrence is there, he presses a violent mouth against his, slides his tongue into his mouth, plays with Adam's, with teeth that scratch and saliva that wells up and hands that run up to Adam's back and press him closer.

And Adam that doesn't waste time on foreplays, but just paws impatiently at Lawrence's shirt, unfastens some buttons, tears away some others, until his fingers roam over Lawrence's torso, try to be slow but are way too eager for the feeling of warm, naked skin, and Lawrence's hands, that actually have some self control, go from Adam's back to under his shirt, draws softly and safely over his pale stomach, his low, approving grumble when Adam's fingertips wander over his nipples is swallowed by Adam, lands in his stomach, vibrates hotly.

_In this world we're just beginning_

_To understand the miracle of living_

_Baby I was afraid before_

_But I'm not afraid anymore_

And then, they lay there, sometimes in Adam's bed, sometimes on the couch, sometimes on the floor, it varies. But something that's a common fact is that Adam lies with his head on Lawrence's chest, on a pillow of the dull thumping of his heartbeats, with an arm around his shoulders. Sweaty, spent. Whole.

Then, Adam's not scared anymore. Well, the fear isn't gone, it never will be, but right then, it's at least okay. Jigsaw can't reach him, because then, he's whole. Jigsaw could destroy him when he was already broken, just a nudge was all it took, but now, nothing can reach him. He's indestructible.

But only at night.

And in one way, that feels pretty empty.

"Lawrence?" Adam asks one night.

So carefully. Like he wants to hear one last bedtime story before he goes to sleep.

"Why do you only come over at night?" Adam continues. "Why can't you just move here? You're not married anymore, and… I love you."

And Lawrence chuckles, patiently, and rakes a hand through Adam's damp curls.

"I will," he says. "I love you, too, you know that."

Pause. The hand leaves Adam's hair, and even though he knows that Lawrence speaks from the heart now, he has to wrap an arm around his waist to make sure that he won't go away.

"And I don't know about you," Lawrence then says with a sigh, "but I think this is scary as hell. I've never been in love. Thought I was, but…"

His voice dies out. It doesn't matter, Adam knows what he means.

And he knows he won't be afraid tomorrow.

"I have to get used to this," Lawrence continues. Dejectedly. Like his own weakness disappoints him. "I have to remember what it feels like to… Not be numb. I have to get used to… You."

Pause. A little lengthier this time.

"But I will move here," Lawrence finishes. "And I'll never stop loving you. I promise."

Adam smiles weakly. Tightens his grip on his waist a little and then falls asleep.

That was what he was afraid of. He knows that.

He wasn't afraid of Jigsaw. He was never afraid of Jigsaw.

He was afraid that he would have to wait. That at some point, he'd sit there and be terrified, night after night, and Lawrence would never come.

He was afraid that he'd just be sex. Not have a face, not have a soul, just a body, just hands in Lawrence's eyes.

But Lawrence will stay. Not tomorrow, and not the day after that, maybe not a year from now, but who cares. Adam can wait.

Not for anything. But he can wait for Lawrence.

Maybe Jigsaw would approve of him now.

**Pretty pointless, but hell, you can't have too much of these two, right? Anyway, I've lost a lot of reviewers, but I'll still tell you to review this one. Old habits… XD **


End file.
